c н o c o ł á т è ० т я u ƒ ƒ ł e s
by S e r p e r i o r
Summary: NarutoIY. A dovetailing of one-shots depicting the more risqué tales with Kagome at the centre.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I suppose since these are required, I must say, "I do not own anything of this fic but the idea!"

Chapter One:

"Clair de Lune"

"Ne, Sasori…aren't you curious?"

His eyes didn't leave the music sheet. "About?"

The seventeen-year-old boy heard the sound of movement behind him, the groaning of his mattress as a specific number of coils sank in deeply and rose back up. Kagome had been lying supine on it earlier, staring up thoughtfully at the ceiling of his bedroom and doing who knew what else. He had the feeling that she was now sitting up and staring intently at the back of his head. Sasori could practically imagine her burning holes through him with only her meaningful gaze. But he simply dismissed his silly idea and remained unperturbed, sedulously studying the content held up by one of his hands.

"Well…" Kagome trailed off, uncertain.

Sasori blinked at the paper under his nose, its purposeful notes suddenly turning into indicipherable gibberish. Since when did she ever hesitate to speak her mind? He turned to look over his shoulder, though the swivel chair he sat on stayed perfectly in place.

Dressed in her usual green and white school attire was Kagome, her legs hanging off the edge of his single-sized bed. Her eyes were riveted to her socked feet, and she was poking her fingers together. There was also a touch of pink hue on her complexion, and overall she came off as rather demure; almost cute.

_What is she blushing for? _he wondered fleetingly. Not long after, Sasori said, "You're turning red—"

"S-_sex_…!" the girl finally burst out, before choosing to repeat the word again for a good measure. "Sex!" She released a deep breath subsequently, and planted a palm atop her chest, eyes shut tight and cheeks reddened. All she had said was a single, simple thing, and yet she appeared so flustered by it. Kagome soon opened her eyes again and peered up at the boy, her lips set in a firm line and a trembling fist before her bosom. For but a few more seconds Sasori regarded her, before he nonchalantly turned back in his seat to fully face his desk.

"I understand how it works," he replied offhandedly, stowing away the music sheets he held into a drawer. Ever the victim of his own meticulous habits, he made sure the edges were perfectly aligned before letting them be swallowed up by temporary darkness. With resolve Sasori then straightened up and directed his attention onto his desktop computer, slightly shifting the mouse attached to it. The sizable monitor came to life with color, and he squandered no time in positioning both hands above the keyboard, typing away. "Around the age of twelve was when I was educated of it in school. Health classes are mandatory for girls as well, aren't they?"

Kagome, no longer blushing profusely, bit the inside of her cheek, left eye twitching in exasperation. _Is he being serious right now, or is he just mocking me? What does he…I just—ugh!  
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Blithely unaware of the mental cyclone forming behind him, Sasori reached across his desk to turn on his white speakers. Immediately classical music filled the room, serenading him, though not quite assuaging the other young woman (_Not this song again! He's played it at least a million times!_) amidst his presence. The redheaded male relaxed and leaned back in his chair, causing it to squeak in protest. He closed his eyes and a faint smile was on his lips as he raised a single finger in the air, waving it about as a conductor would with his baton.

He wasn't even paying a sliver of attention to his longtime female friend, who had just hinted that she would very much like to try some 'new experiences' with him. Was he really a guy? (Then again, she had to grudgingly admit that he honestly _was_ the type to be hopelessly enamored with his music and instruments—and that damned _Debussy—_but stay totally oblivious to a girl's feelings.)

This was precisely the obstacle Karin had forewarned her about, and there was only one way to get past it: by being upfront.

The young woman's throat suddenly felt awfully parched, albeit her hands, in stark contrast, were not so dry anymore. She managed a difficult gulp and squared her shoulders, and in that momentous instant decided she was no longer going to stand being second to Sasori's music—and Debussy, darn it! Like her friend Karin (who was a seasoned veteran of certain 'activities', and made for quite an encouraging coach) she would _go _for what she wanted. This afternoon, on May 15th, in his own bedroom, she was making him hers after years of waiting on the sideline, watching him fall in and out of love with inanimate objects such as the violin and piano. Yes, Higurashi Kagome…

…all right, it was clearly obvious that now she was just trying to buy herself extra time.

Swallowing nervously once again, Kagome fixated her eyes on her target, and parted from the mattress to rise on her feet. The redheaded young man was still blissfully lost in his music, humming quietly and tracing notes in the air with his index finger. He truly had no idea.

Sasori was a little more than surprised when his chair was suddenly spun around by another, and he was abruptly broken out of his pleasant trance-like state to see a very, rather, _determined_-looking Kagome. She planted both her palms on either of his shoulders, and stared down at him with a strange, unusual dimness in her hooded eyes—and had her green plaited skirt risen by several inches? He couldn't recall it ever being _that _short…

"I think it's about time we put Debussy in the backseat," Kagome drawled, trying to adopt a sexy, seductive tone. Unfortunately she was not a master of the vocal techniques just yet, and would have to pick up more tips from Karin later on because she sounded more awkward and shaky, as opposed to sweet and sultry. Of that she was highly aware, and the young woman had to gather her bearings quickly before she demonstrated just how swiftly she could transform into a live human-tomato. _'Put Debussy in the backseat'? Did I really just say something so lame like that?_

With concern and suspicion in his tone, Sasori remarked, "You're acting unlike yourself today." His carmine orbs were gauging Kagome, and she hastily avoided eye contact with him, finding his computer monitor more interesting. Her breath even seemed to hitch when he raised a palm to her forehead, feeling for a possible fever. "Are you ill?"

That was the last of what he said before Kagome braced herself and hauled him from his seat with all her will and might.

The two teenagers ended up a mess right before his bed, almost having landed on it but not so quite. Kagome's hair was sprawled beneath beneath her head, her eyes hidden by her inky black bangs as she faced up towards Sasori. Her fingers were latched tightly onto the front of his summer school uniform: a modest, pastel blue short-sleeved button-up shirt. The boy, without delay, attempted to lift himself away from her, and found that she wasn't willing to let him go so easily. He noticed his bent legs were both between hers when she drew her knees upward, trapping him from both sides. His unfurled palms were supporting him up, established on the carpeted floor, containing a feminine torso.

"You really are ill," Sasori pointed out shrewdly, carmine orbs narrowed. "I'll get you medicine, you can take a nap in my room."

"Iie." Her eyes were visible now, but she still wasn't looking directly at him. There was a certain _sparkle _in them, and though he couldn't quite distinguish what that meant, Sasori somewhat liked it. It was attractive in a special way, particularly when combined with her renewed blush. "I'm not sick."

"Then?" Kagome's grip on the front of his clothing tightened. That would definitely leave some wrinkles, he thought dryly.

"I wanna try it," she said quietly. Almost as an afterthought, the young woman then added, "…with you."

He knew where this was heading, and he wasn't certain of how to respond. Girls and intercourse had never held a significant portion of his thought process…

Kagome released her hold on him and worked up to lean against the mattress with her back to it. With her risen legs still guarding Sasori from both sides, her skirt fell back a bit on her thighs, though she didn't bother to fix it. The young man didn't move, and she ghosted the fingers of her right hand down his arm until she reached his. Then she placed her palm over his hand.

"Kagome," the boy said solemnly, slowly, "I don't—"

"I like you," she interrupted, her tone uncharacteristically feeble. "I've always liked you…for a really long time."

Sasori felt her hand curl over his.

"…and I'm going to show you, just how much."

He didn't have a chance to respond when Kagome dipped down and claimed his lips for herself. In sequence she also took the chance to once again latch onto his shirt, this time the fabric covering his shoulder. Never before had Sasori been kissed, and she was his very first. Her lips were soft against his, and it was only now, with their close proximity, that he could also smell a sweet scent emanating from her. Where it came from was a mystery to him, but at the moment it was also the least of his worries. The redheaded male was much more fascinated by the new wonders tackling his senses. The fact that one of his favorite orchestral songs was playing in the background didn't make things any less pleasant.

Kagome broke the chaste kiss and leaned back against his mattress, and Sasori likewise collected himself and moved backward so he was on his haunches. Aside from the deceptively tranquil music, there were no other noises. Two sets of eyes locked. One pair was anxiously awaiting an answer—a Yes or No—while the other was analytic and observant, as always.

Reddish eyes steadily traveled down a feminine body all on their own accord, almost innocent and possessing a child's inquisitiveness, as if having never before seen such a novelty.

Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, Sasori found himself wanting to _know_ things—things that were foreign to him. Were Kagome's lips the extent of her softness? How was she…underneath her clothing? What would her skin feel like under his hands, which were callous from countless years of handling various musical instruments?

"Sasori," she called softly to him, cautious.

"We have time," the young man said dismissively. His tone seemed…oddly cold.

We have time? Time to think about things before going on ahead with rash actions?

…time to distance ourselves before something regretful happens?

Kagome's mouth opened, but no words came out. She looked off to the side again, this round crestfallen as she assumed the worst. _This was a bad idea…I should've thought about if he'd say no…_

Her heart nearly fluttered in her ribcage when she heard what he said next.

"Chiyo-obaasan won't be home for another few hours."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I suppose since these are required, I must say, "I do not own anything of this fic but the idea!"

Chapter Two:

"Clair de Lune"

Kagome watched with attentive eyes as Sasori closed the door of his room and locked it with a reassuring _click _(probably thinking it better to be safe than sorry). He then strolled over to his single wide window, his steps unhurried and poised, and pulled the pearl-white curtains together. Light was vanquished from the room by a considerable amount, and the ambiance dimmed down to a subtle simmer. The redhead lingered in his spot for a moment longer, his hands still gently holding onto the drapery.

While most other boys when presented with such an opportunity, would jump at it without a second thought, it made perfect sense that_ he _wouldn't mind leisurely taking his time. The young woman resisted the urge to cough loudly into her fist and merely spun her head forward, opting to be patient. Soon enough, she heard precise footfalls on the carpet, and Sasori joined her on top of the bed where she was now seated. The coils inside the mattress sang dully with the added load of weight.

When Kagome peered up from her hands which were placed tidily on the thighs of her folded legs, she saw Sasori sitting directly in front of her. Cross-legged, arms also crossed under his chest, and shooting her an expectant gaze. It proved uncomfortably difficult for her to swallow past the growing lump in her throat.

_Jeez, can't he afford to look at least a little less than imposing for once? _Her wavering focus wandered from carmine eyes down to fair-pigmented arms. She nervously twiddled her thumbs, a dozen thoughts and ideas racing through her flurried mind. Everything Karin had tipped her off on before had sounded simple enough at the time—and a lot more _do_able—but now that she was actually facing the boy she had romantically esteemed for years, and fantasized avidly of (her innocuous daydreams pertaining to visions of being kissed passionately in a downpour, sharing a couple scarf together in the winter season, and other such delusions girls her age often fancied), she was at a discouraging loss for words. _Darn it, this feels so awkward…_

Occupied thoroughly by her mental cyclone, she missed the way Sasori glanced down at her exposed thighs, before regarding her again and intentionally clearing his throat. She nearly jumped, and her heart was already accelerating, but the girl managed to narrowly avoid a panic attack and raised her eyes to him.

"Well then," he inquired smoothly, "how are we to go about this?"

Pursing her lips, Kagome averted her gaze again, scratching her cheek sheepishly. "Usually the guy makes the first—erm, move…" Not true, according to Karin whom was a complete dominatrix (and advised for her to be the same), but with Sasori's not-so-evident enthusiasm she didn't feel confident enough to act preemptively.

Sasori's brows delicately knitted together but otherwise he said nothing, pensive.

Kagome glanced elusively at him before lowering her hand. "You do know what to _do_, don't you?" she asked with a hint of dubiousness. Surely even Sasori must have watched pornography at least _once_ in his lifetime? For Heaven's sake, she knew some people (a certain lascivious Miroku, for one…) who couldn't survive a day without that louche stuff in their system. Though then again, she had to remind herself that this was a 'special' case; for this unique boy, high-end musical concerts were likely the closest thing in existence to porn.

With a petulant toss of his head, Sasori sniffed, and it was now his turn to look away as he answered stiffly, "I told you, I understand the overall concept of the deed itself; what scientifically occurs in the body during the process. I never claimed to be knowledged in _how _it's done." He was always so sensitive and quick to defend against an implication that he weren't aware of something obvious, Kagome noted with a small smile. Despite the situation and matter at hand, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease him.

"_Eh_? So even the flawless, high-marked role model student doesn't know everything there is to know?" the girl remarked in a dramatic tone, a hand over her chest to consummate her image of feigned shock.

Almost immediately afterward, she squeaked, her inept mirth usurped by surprise when Sasori grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pulled her forward in his direction. He met her halfway by leaning in, and Kagome's eyes fluttered close, her mischievous comments subjugated by his lips. They must have stayed still like that for nearly half a minute, the soft serenade of a violin weaving elegantly through the air (and for once, that particular track sounded exceptionally romantic to Kagome).

Sasori broke the modest kiss by moving back, his grip now lax on the girl's petite shoulders. When she slowly opened her eyes again, they were tinted with a faraway dreamy look. He considered them rather smugly, his mouth quirked in a slight smirk. "I know how to do that, at the least," he told her.

"Then…let me show you what _I _can do."

With invigorated boldness Kagome seized the front of his shirt and lured him back to her. She captured his mouth in their third kiss, and astonished the boy when she parted her own and slid her tongue across his lips. Acting on bare instinct, he partly followed her example and allowed her slick flesh access. The young woman gladly accepted his offer and pushed her body forward as well as her tongue, sweeping it over his less active one. He tentatively lifted it to tangle with hers, and gradually became bolder with it as he went along the flow. The harmless dance taking place amid Sasori's mouth ascended to a battle of dominance in Kagome's. The grips of his hands tightening on her, he decided he would be the one excercising control here, not her.

As they swirled and lapped at each other in a private wet waltz, Sasori couldn't help but marvel at how much of a fight she was putting up. Why not simply surrender, he wondered, as his hands steadily slid downward on their own accord. They ghosted past the short sleeve of Kagome's summer school uniform and down her arms. She seemed to shiver almost imperceptibly from the light skin to skin contact, and he was even able to evoke a mellow purr from the back of her throat. He felt its ensuing vibration in her mouth, and when he slightly opened his eyes he saw the deep blush suffusing her complexion.

His touch didn't stop at her wrists like he'd originally intended. It instead found its way to Kagome's waist, and from there ventured downward to two enthrallingly smooth upper thighs. He felt the hands clutching stiffly at the front of his shirt quake as he methodically kneaded the flesh under his palms.

She was so soft; she was making more noises, more vibrations.

Their lasting kiss broke, and the impromptu war between their tongues narrowed down to having no winner. The need to announce one was dismissed in their occupied minds.

"Sasori…" Kagome looked at him through hooded eyes, that ethereal element present in them again. His own gaze was tender—a stark contrast in comparison to its usual solidity—but it was speckled with something more unusual and wanting.

His voice was arousing and provocatively husky as he tersely responded, "Again," and dove back in for her lips. She complied easily and released her hold on his shirt, choosing to snake her arms around his neck and lean in even closer.

He hadn't ever known that this simple act, this _kissing_, could be so—so addicting.

Sasori wrapped his own arms around the girl's waist, bringing her to him and eliminating the nettlesome gap between them. He tried to ignore the odd, stirring sensation he was getting below, suddenly feeling trapped by his own trousers. His legs uncrossed and bordered Kagome from both sides, stretching beyond her.

She rose up on her knees, making him tilt his chin up along with her. His devious hands were shifting again, this time taking on a more daring course. They deserted Kagome's back in favor of slyly inching closer to her inner thighs, which separated upon his arrival. Sasori took it as further acceptance when the young woman threaded the fingers of her left hand into his hair. She tensed when his touch crept closer up her thighs to where her panties laid in wait. After hearing of it incessantly (to the point of annoyance, oftentimes) from some of his more sexually active friends, he was undoubtedly curious as to what _it _would be like…

The palm of his right hand was facing up as he experimentally rubbed against the object of his new interest. The thin fabric of Kagome's underwear was rather…moist. And in accordance, she mewled again into his mouth, except this time it was noticeably more pronounced than the last. So she liked that, did she_?_

He advanced with the usage of two fingers, glued together, by pushing them up forcibly into the central source of wetness. Slick, tenuous liquid seeped through the obstructing thin fabric and onto his probing digits. But he didn't realize that, as he was much more taken by Kagome parting her lips from his with a pointed gasp and reinforcing her embrace around his neck. Sasori did not bother to open his eyes, wanting to experience more with his gifted ears than his sight.

The young man rubbed her with more vigor, occasionally moving through the flimsy fabric to partially pass into a small, sopping entrance. The results delivered to him by his ministrations were absolutely thrilling; Kagome was cradling his head to the crook of her neck, her mouth beside his right ear as she uttered erotic, drawn-out noises. Her heated breath wafted over it as well, and the constricting of his pants was almost unbearable at this point.

She was moaning softly for him, and Sasori couldn't believe how lovely it sounded.

What really got her going was when he unthinkingly shoved aside the bottom of her underwear and stuck his two fingers all the way inside of her.

"S-Sasori—!" Her fingers gripped tightly onto the locks of his hair.

"Does it feel nice, Kagome?" he asked lowly, eyes still closed. He felt her nod timidly, and his next words came out as more of a command than anything else. "I want to hear more of you." He withdrew his fingers and plunged them back in again, albeit more forcefully this time.

"_Ah_!" was Kagome's tantalizing response, the syllable short-lived and clipped.

Sasori continued thrusting his digits in and out of her, now and then hooking his fingers and dragging them up and down against her inner wall (perhaps he should thank Hatake Kakashi later, for he had overheard of this exact "full-proof" method from the silver-haired pervert). While doing so, he buried his face into Kagome's neck, inhaling her sweet scent, and encircled her waist once again with his free arm. Her voice was effectively drowning out Debussy in the backdrop, but strangely enough, he preferred it that way. The sounds she made were so tender and fragile; he had never before heard anything so entrancing and melodious to this degree.

It caught him by sheer surprise when Kagome unexpectedly forced him down to his back with her entire weight, and his bed squeaked in agreement with his sentiments. His arms were now spread out at his sides, the right one leading down to glossy, shining fingers. He stared up at Kagome, eyes slightly widened in reaction to her blatant forwardness. She gazed down at him in return, blushing, though her lips were shyly upturned. Her palms were planted on his covers, on either side of his head, and her parted knees contained his hips in an identical fashion.

"Your turn," she told him in a faint whisper, before slowly lowering her mouth to his neck. It was light and feathery on his skin, and it sinfully felt even better when she ran her tongue over his flesh. His jaws were rigid and fixed as he inanely evaluated the motionless ceiling fan above them. Kagome suckled gingerly, and he had to suppress the groan at the back of his throat to preserve his virile dignity. Concurrently, her hands trailed down his chest and proceeded lower, and lower, nearing the area where he was feeling so unbearably hot and restrained.

He held the backs of her thighs, squeezing them. Sasori considered reacquainting himself with Kagome's certain spot via his fingers, when she began sliding her body down his…

No, wait, she wasn't going to—?

The redheaded male propped himself up by setting his elbows behind him. He watched with concealed amazement as Kagome fumbled with his belt, paying him no mind. A triumphant smile tilted her lips when she finally tugged his pants down to somewhere right above his knees. She had revealed his plaid black-and-gray boxer shorts, and a not so inconspicuous protrusion rearing up from beneath them. While her left hand was set on the mattress to steady her balance, she used her right to brazenly peel the waistband of his boxers down. The girl swallowed, engrossed by his stiff and now standing erect member.

Kagome raised her chin, and she and Sasori locked eyes. A righteous, dignified part of the boy insisted that he tell her not to do it—because it was simply a crude act. The other less decorous portion mentally snapped at him to stay quiet and enjoy the whole damned ride. The latter won over and he was silent, staring incredulously.

"Gomen, this is the first time I'm trying this, so I don't know how good it'll be," said Kagome with an apologetic grin. The prominent shade of red on her cheeks was deepening and turning even redder by the second. "I—I did my research, s-so…"

To hell with it, is probably what she thought, as she let her awkward sentence trail off and dipped down to swiftly save herself from further embarrassment.

"Kago—" Sasori was effectively cut off when a wonderfully wet, warm sensation enveloped his aching shaft. He only managed a sharp intake of breath, which came out after as a quivering shudder. This seemed to encourage Kagome, who pushed her head down farther into his crotch, attempting to take Sasori entirely in her mouth. When his tip poked at the back of her throat, she ceased to prevent gagging and instead began licking him all around inside. She tended to the remaining portion of him by firmly wrapping her hand over the leftover and moving it up and down. Her body was crouched down like that of a feline readying itself to pounce, her bottom in the air.

Sasori's hands fisted around his blankets, and he watched through fuzzy eyes as the girl's head began to rise and fall. She sucked enthusiastically on him, making all sorts of dirty wet noises as she did.

What she was doing for him was so filthy, so improper and lewd… Yet at the same time, it felt so indescribably remarkable; it was utterly exhilarating.

Again, the more shameless part of him (which he hadn't even known to exist until today) won out, and Sasori was thrusting into her mouth, utilizing his hips as much as he could. Kagome was delighted by her obvious success, and while taking care not to choke on accident, did her best to accommodate to his need: rubbing him up and down with a tighter grip and bobbing her head likewise in faster tempo. She licked and suckled on him aggressively, careful not to graze him with her teeth. Sasori didn't dare look away, and his elbows trembled. He discovered an abrupt newfound appreciation for her.

How did Kagome appear so beautiful to him right now, although he couldn't even see her face?

Faster and faster, his hips worked, and faster and faster, Kagome worked _him_. Something within him was peaking awfully close to the summit, and Sasori closed his eyes in anticipation, biting down on his lower lip. A dewy sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead; the room temperature seemed so unnecessarily high now. The knuckles of his fists blanched. He was going to—

There was a single, aggravating _pop_, and the mind-blowing impression died out rather anticlimactically. The wickedly pleasurable warmth that had encompassed him was now absent, just like that—_poof_. Sasori had to mentally fight against the temptation to growl in a manner that was sorely unlike him. He had been so, so painfully close; if only she had held out for a bit longer…

He opened his eyes and saw that Kagome was crawling up his body, on her hands and knees, her mouth tweaked archly. Sasori sighed lowly and fell back on his mattress, turning his face so that his cheek made contact with the cool disheveled cover. The young woman lowered herself on him, her bottom half first (of _course_), pressing her sex adventurously to his. Her panties were thoroughly soaked, more so than before, and that made his member twitch reflexively. It took all he had to resist pushing her hips down with his hands right then and there, and forcibly grind her against him until he achieved his overdue climax.

But no—though patience was a virtue he clearly lacked, he refused to play into Kagome's hand. He was above being controlled by the strings like someone's puppet; never mind that his throbbing shaft was begging for him to consider different.

"Sa-_so_-ri," the living source of his irritation called mildly, accentuating each syllable. "Why are you so upset, ne?" Her bashfulness from earlier had evaporated wholly—

His hands balled into taut fists.

—and was now replaced by her sodden core, which was slowly, mercilessly rubbing against him.

Sasori deigned to turn to her, eyes narrowed in a reproachful glare. "You're teasing me," he said flatly.

He resembled so well, in that instant, a disappointed and resentful child. Such a novel sight it was to behold, featuring the ever-stolid and dispassionate mask-donning young man. And it was all so silly that Kagome could've burst out laughing, but she withheld herself from doing just that because she realized it would probably be taken the wrong way.

Instead she readopted her equable composure and pressed her clothed chest against his, murmuring against his ear, "Gomen ne, Sasori," in an airy, sultry tone. His jaw muscles strained, he turned away from her again; she could practically _hear _him grip a fistful of sheets out of frustration.

So this is what it was like to truly hold power over a man, Kagome observed wordlessly. This was what Karin had always bragged about to her and all their friends—and the bespectacled girl was far from wrong: it _was _unimaginably thrilling. Presently, the raven-haired young woman felt so confident (almost foolhardily so) with the way she had Sasori beneath her, sullen and impatient and subject to any torture of her choice. She had never had him in so triumphant a vise-like snare as now (metaphorically—and literally, minutes earlier), and to sum it all up, she felt so _dominant_. Though the timing was inappropriate, she could have jumped into the air with jubilation and scream with glee.

Her bright thoughts were flipped upside down when Sasori flipped _her _onto her back.

The boy loomed over her, his forearms situated firmly on either side of her head. His bare sex was pressing into her, so stiff and heated, and his pants were hanging awkwardly down after his boxers practically begging to be kicked off.

Kagome peeked up into half-lidded garnet orbs, and she gulped. _Um, oops…_

She wasn't sure how to react when he started pulling her shirt up without her consent. Up until now she hadn't uncovered anything _serious_ (raising her skirt had been Karin's idea, as per usual, and she hadn't minded that too much), so she naturally hesitated and her hands bolted to Sasori's with the intent of stopping him.

It was useless; he caught both wrists in one calloused hand and effortlessly pinned them above her head.

"Sa—Sasori, wait a second—" she spluttered, the splash of crimson blooming back on her cheeks.

"Why," he said tonelessly, his singular word not at all sounding like a question. He amused himself at her expense by slowly raising the hem of her shirt up her ivory skin, exposing her belly button. His eyes never left hers, even as he told her in a collected voice, "You owe me now, Kagome."

Kagome inhaled stridently and shut her eyes in apprehension when she felt Sasori promptly relocate the rest of the top up before her frilly maroon-colored bra. Her ears burned; they must have been matching the hue of her blazing cheeks.

Sasori inspected her flushed face, perplexed as to why she would be acting so abashed. Was she really so shy about revealing herself after she had just seduced him through an incredibly vulgar method? Hm, women… He disregarded her to assess her covered breasts. Against her protests he pulled the bra up to join where her shirt was gathered in folds under her neck. Subsequently after being liberated of their risen confinement, the twin mounds of flesh bounced back into place.

He was purely transfixed. These were what all his more 'experienced' friends constantly gushed about: a girl's breasts. They were white as porcelain, and two perky nipples pointed straight up. They certainly weren't as large as the ones his companions depicted of their girlfriends' (those bastards were probably exaggerating anyhow), but they weren't too small either.

To him they were perfect, and the agonizing pulses at his hips grew more distinct.

"St-stop staring_…_hentai," Kagome admonished feebly, one squinting eye cracked open.

Humorous, he thought, because if he was a hentai then what was she? She was just being overly insecure.

"Your breasts are well-shaped," he commented nonchalantly, going out of his way to voice his opinion, if only to assuage the little bundle of nerves underneath him.

"Don't say that," she huffed, though it was plainly obvious that she was fighting back a smile. Her breathing had also deepened.

Sasori concentrated on her assets and gently placed a mindful hand over a white, marshmallow-esque mound. It was very soft, and at the same time very firm. He had never experienced anything like it. A woman's breast; he hadn't a clue that it would be so great just to touch one. He inquisitively grabbed it and rolled it around in a circle with his hand. A muffled sound came from above, and he looked up to see Kagome. Her eyes were closed again, but her expression was much more inviting and set back in refined gratification. In any case, she wasn't opposing and rebelling against his actions anymore, and merely worrying her bottom lip.

His fingers touched her other breast's nipple, and as he rolled his thumb over it Kagome's body twisted needfully and pained breaths poured from her open mouth. She was exerting so much effort to keep from moaning out. Her little gasps were like the chirping of the morning birds he awoke to every morning, and he wished to hear more.

"Louder, Kagome," he instructed succinctly.

She shook her head rapidly in denial, unable to peer down at him.

He put her nipple in his mouth and more, savoring the taste of her breast.

"_Aaaah_! Sasori—!"

Her hard nipple was similar to a small berry; he flicked it with his tongue and sucked it. It was not unlike a gummy candy beneath his teeth—so pliable and firm.

"N-no! Sasori, dont—_nnn_!" she cried out, gasping audibly. In spite of her contrasting words, her back bowed into an arch.

He released his hold on her wrists and brought the now unoccupied hand down to her other breast, kneading it. Though she was more than able, Kagome didn't even attempt to try and remove him from her this time. Her fingers were too busy entangling themselves in his hair; she was clearly impressed by his performance. (Just like everyone else whenever they spectated him playing on stage, he noted complacently.) Sasori couldn't refrain from awarding himself, pushing his hips into hers.

Whether she did it consciously or not, Kagome encased him in her legs, grinding against him as they rocked. The only thing doggedly coming in between them was her dampened underwear. They moved wantonly against each other, rougher and faster as they went, and that heady sensation was flooding over Sasori again. It was picking up like before, accelerating in speed as it advanced up that tall, spiking hill. Every other coherent thought blended into nothingness in his mind, and the boy vigorously rubbed against that wetness until he were finally on the precipice of peaking. He bit down hard on the nipple between his teeth, eliciting a mixed cry of pain and pleasure from Kagome. His head was spinning—

—white flashed all around him, and Sasori's fluid gushed out of his tip to stain Kagome's panties (along with his sheets). He stilled, releasing her nipple from his mouth and breathing onto it. Interestingly enough, though he had just unmistakably relieved himself, the area at his hips was still hot. He could, again…

"You—" Kagome started, only to be silenced by his own announcement.

"I'm going to put it inside," he said in a breathy tone. His hardness had yet to disperse; there was but one way to settle this. Searching half-heartedly for confirmation, he gazed up into brown eyes. They were vague and misty, and Kagome nodded once.

"Okay."

Sasori drew himself up and leaned back on the bed, slipping off his pants and boxers with practiced ease. Kagome blushed and averted her eyes out of modesty, though she unintentionally licked her lower lip, recalling the experience of slick, sticky pre-cum on her tongue. The redheaded male discarded the unneeded materials at the foot of his bed (an atrocity his meticulous tendencies usually _never_ permitted of him) and advanced forward again to relieve his partner of her underwear. They slid simply down her legs, the saturation in them visible, and Sasori wasn't subject to any troublesome complaints.

He crawled up to Kagome and lowered down, and she cautiously placed her hands on his shoulder. He planted his forearms next to her head again from either side.

Their eyes were focused on each other, Sasori's hard with need and wanting—for _her_.

As Kagome felt the seeds of warmth sprouting within her heart, she smiled endearingly at him.

That smile soon twisted and she uttered a stifled whine of pain. She was being split from the inside, and while it was an extraordinary feeling, it was also startling. The muscles in her legs tensed, and her toes curled (in anticipation or dread, she couldn't discern).

Sasori paused.

"Go, just—go," she encouraged. It wasn't like she hadn't been forewarned of what her first time would be like, and what was the pain compared to her overwhelming joy? The boy she had loved for so long was finally looking at her and not his stupid instruments, and he was sharing her need for him. He needed _her_, only she could satisfy him. He was inside _her_.

He roughly broke through her maiden protection, and Kagome cried out sharply, on the verge of tears behind her closed eyes. She laced her arms needily around Sasori's neck, shivering and clinging to him like a lifeline and combating inwardly against that acute, cutting sensation. The young man was already breathing hard, and impervious to her state of suffering.

It was spellbinding—_surreal_. Strained walls squeezed and molded around him; that, added to the return of the wetness and warmth, was enough to have his head suspended in the clouds. He could think of nothing but to give in to the instinctual whispers in his head guiding him further. He pulled out a few inches, and slammed himself back in. Kagome whimpered, even as he continued doing it several more times. But as he went on, the note of pain in her voice was gradually slipping away with each thrust.

Sasori picked up his pace, his hips moving accordingly. Although he had never _seen _an actual example of a man doing this, it surprisingly came off as natural for him.

It wasn't long until Kagome's gasping and panting and moaning were reverberating in his room, mixed with his own pants as he pushed wildly into her. His hands drew themselves into fists again, taking patches of the blanket with them. The girl's ankles locked together behind him and rose in the air, shaking with each powerful thrust. His entire bed was shaking as well, the coils screaming madly from the abuse—though that, along with Debussy in the background, went ignored. Sasori could only hear the wet slapping of their repeated union and parting, and Kagome's suggestive wails as they crescendoed strikingly in volume. They were probably penetrating through the curtained window, granting anyone outside an idea of what was happening in his room. He wasn't in the correct mindset to care.

"Sa-sa—_Sasori_!" She wasn't able to articulate his whole first name often, as most of the time it came out in split syllables. "_Nn_—!" Her arms were fastened around the back of his neck, her fingers prying and twisting in his hair like it was an instinct. "I'm—I'm going to_… Sasori_!" she bit out, tears of ecstasy wetting her eyelashes. When she opened her watery eyes halfway and looked up at the boy, there was no earthly sense in them.

Sasori craned his neck down to claim her lips once more in a fervent kiss, their tongues flailing together in a sloppy, mindless frenzy.

Then he was able to visualize it again for the second time: the awaiting summit of that glorious, sun-caressed hill. He lost all semblance of himself and burrowed deep into Kagome, as hard as he could, educing a sonorous whine from her throat that vibrated all the way into his mouth.

She broke the kiss and turned away, eyes closed as she cried out a strangled and melodious, feminine cry. Her limbs trembled as her walls clamped down on Sasori, and at that precious moment he too achieved his climax. Victorious white flashed for him again, and the divine feeling of ultimate release welcomed him into its arms as he filled the young woman to the brim. His own arms were sapped of strength and he fell forward into Kagome, his head past her shoulder. He was panting raggedly, too worn out and spent to regain control over himself.

Kagome eventually shifted her head back into place, and gazed up at the ceiling with star-filled eyes. Despite her shortness of breath, and how burdensome Sasori's body was fully pressing down on hers (prevented her from comfortably inhaling some well-needed oxygen), she smiled. _He's mine now, and I'm his_, __she thought beatifically to herself. _I'm_…_so happy. _Butterflies of rapture fluttered in her belly, equally as warm as the seed and male inside her, and she put her lips affectionately to Sasori's damp temple. The bountiful tears that had gathered in her eyes prior during their intercourse finally slipped down, evincing her ineffable bliss.

"Sasori_…_" she breathed, stroking the back of his hair.

He was verbally unresponsive.

_…_

_…_

_…_

"No, we can't do this here_—nn—_stop it—_stop_."

"Why should I?"

"Because_—_because this is _school_, Sasori!"

"School is no longer in session; the day's over."

"There's still clubs in the late afternoon__…__and teachers! And_—_this just isn't _right_."

"You'll come over, then?"

"I told you, I can't! Chiyo-obaa-san's staying home today, isn't she_…_?"

"For what purpose do lockable doors exist, Kagome?"

"_…_you've got to be kidding me."

"I never say anything I don't fully mean."

"No—_no_, I'm sorry. It's just, too reckless, I can't—"

"Kagome." He grabbed her gently by the chin and tilted it upward. "I like you. Very much."

Her expression softened and her shoulders lowered, but she gazed down at her feet, dispirited. _You might, but maybe for the wrong reasons, Sasori__…_

She was spared no further time to contemplate when Sasori grabbed her by the hand and pulled her with him to exit through the front of the school building. He entwined his fingers with hers, knowing how much she enjoyed that. Her will was effectually demolished when he turned to smile at her over his shoulder. Against her better judgement she smiled back, oblivious to the flecks of sensual desire in her now-boyfriend's carmine eyes_…_ Or maybe she was pretending, again, to not have noticed them. Regardless she caught up in step to him, holding his hand firmly as they walked across the school grounds together. Kagome stole a glance off her lover, foolishly falling in love with him all over again.

It was okay though, wasn't it? He needed her, and she needed him. This was what _she had wanted_.

_…_wasn't it?

—

"Oh, fantastic, see what you've done now, Karin," a pink-haired girl rebuked, watching the couple from a distance with concerned emerald eyes. "You've created a monster."

"Kagome will be _fine_, Sakura, geez. She's got a pro for her mentor, did you forget?" retorted another female wearing black glasses, inspecting her nails and a fist planted on her hip.

"I'm not talking about her, baka, I'm talking about Sasori-kun. Haven't you noticed all he does nowadays is disappear with her every time? I heard his grades are slipping, too."

Karin, flipping her hand in the air, pertly replied, "They must be having a lot of fun then."

Sighing, Sakura rubbed her temple. "You don't understand, do you? I'm saying, I _don't _think things are going to end too well for our _friend_—Kagome."

The redhead shot her a disbelieving look. "Are you kidding me, she's got that boy wrapped all around her finger. Or legs, perhaps I should say."

"Forget it_…_"

Quiescence reigned, until Karin narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Say, I've heard you and Ino are up to something lately_…_"

Sakura jerked involuntarily, confirming the bespectacled girl's suspicions.

"Spill it, bitch! It better not be anything involving my dear Sasuke-kun!"

"What! _Your _dear Sasuke-kun? Why you—!" Sakura snarled, baring her fangs.

The two fell into a squabble until the sun descended on the horizon and the art club's president along with its co-founder—Deidara and Tobi—emerged from the building to extricate them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I suppose since these are required, I must say, "I do not own anything of this fic but the idea!"

Chapter Three:

"She Who Was Eternal"

Her flimsy laughter resonated in the dense forest, ricocheting off the musty old barks of decaying trees and gliding blithely across the dewy grass—but never penetrating the green canopies above. While her joyous cries for help reached the ears of no one she ran from him, her gawky steps careless and lacking precision. He tailed her effortlessly like the voracious predator that he was, his own footfalls silenced by the killing grace that shinobi possessed. Within the murky shadows that conspired with him he slunk after her, granting her more room now and then just so she would think she had narrowly escaped his grasp.

And when she believed she had she would turn around with a frivolous smile tilting her pretty lips, bright blue eyes scanning the woods for him. But she also knew that she had never once won this game, and never would, so she whirled around again and resumed sprinting, crunching the leaves under her bare feet and frightening off nearby hares.

This elusive sprite had appeared before him one untold day, bathing serenely in the clear rippling azure of a waterfall. Samehada had been the one to lead him to her, pinpointing her frantically as a being with extraordinary amounts of power. All he had discovered was a nude woman standing amidst the color that matched her eyes, a jet of obsidian running down her naked back. An imprudent woman lounging alone in a forest brimming with wild coyote and bears—and him. When their gazes locked she had shown him no fear or consternation; something he was unused to.

_Were you searching for me? _she had asked of him, raising a drenched hand to placidly tuck back a strand of black behind her ear.

He had graciously introduced her to the tip of his bandaged weapon in reciprocation, smirking. _What are you, woman? _

Narrowing her eyes at Samehada almost lazily so, she closed them and smiled to herself, rashly dismissing him as a threat. _I'm eternal_, she answered cryptically, simply.

Then he had flashed with unbridled speed and cut across the water, also proceeding to tear through her in a singular accurate strike with his concealed sword. Lips quirked smugly, he had relished in the spurts of blood drenching him and Samehada. Curiously enough, however, when he had peered back over his shoulder the eccentric woman's corpse was nowhere to be located. Then, the wet crimson on his cloak and weapon had vanished as well, leaving not a vestige of proof that he had just murdered.

_I told you already, didn't I? _a familiar voice subsequently asked, testy.

He had snapped his neck back into place to see the exact same woman standing below him, half-submerged in the crystalline waters. Arms crossed under her uncovered breasts and mouth pursed querulously. Even as he watched, her fatal wounds mended themselves back together, the blood dissipating into thin air with a crackle of pink electricity.

It had been impossible to withhold the amused chuckle begging to be unhitched from the rear of his throat. _You're an interesting case. _

She had smiled a small, mysterious smile. _Visit me again sometime if you ever get bored. I have lots of stories to tell and no one to tell them to_.

He had taken her up on her offer, delighted to find such a bizarre woman who could simultaneously fulfill both his carnal and sadistic desires. His Uchiha partner never inquired of him where he wandered off to for several days at a time, possibly relieved to finally have stretches of solitude on his own to meditate. So in the span of those innumerable several days he sought her out in this particular forest, his blue-eyed apparition.

She was always present somewhere among the lush greenery, waiting for him to find her and pounce her, hold her again in his suffocating grip. Her hiding spots were never all too cleverly decided, and far too often he could espy a cascade of onyx or the evocative twinkling of blue from the periphery of his vision.

It was because she wished to be plucked by him, time and time again; torn asunder and vigorously tunneled into. Although her dismantled body always unfailingly threaded itself back to health after every session, he knew—according to her shrill gasps and agonized breathing—that while she was not exempt from worldly pleasures, neither was she from raw pain. And he would dimly wonder, by consummating with a ruthless beast like him _was she punishing herself_?

"Kisame," she whispered under her breath, panting from the taxing cardiac activity. Her back was pressed flat against the jagged brown bark of a tree that towered loftily over the rest.

He was wordless as he approached her with precise calculated steps, Samehada vibrating over his shoulder. The shiver that shook her lean physique did not pass him by undetected, and he appreciated it enormously: her evident terror and anxiety—along with her excitement. She was a trapped mouse with no more welcoming corners to scamper off to, staring at her ravenous pursuer with wide knowing eyes. The corner of his mouth tweaked up as he accelerated his movement and knocked her unceremoniously against that majestic tree.

A high-pitched cry of shock and distress spilled out between her parted lips.

He momentarily discarded Samehada beside him, piercing it into the dirt ground that would hold it steady while he finished his business. The demonic weapon wailed peevishly in response to being abandoned, but Kisame was oblivious to its complaints.

"Are you afraid?" he asked huskily, a cruel grin in his voice as he looked down at the cringing female. His palms were on either side of her, keeping her confined between him and the tree.

She peered up at him, regarding him with a mixed expression of horror and reverence. Her delectable lips trembled as they always did whenever she answered him: "Iie. I'm not afraid of you."

That was how they always began; it was their precursory ritual.

He dipped down to encase her mouth with his in an unpolished union, pushing against her again and forcing her head back to the coarse wall behind her. He bit down on her lower lip, eliciting a pleased groan from her throat. Kisame continued kissing her with a bruising intensity, his right hand traveling downward from where it was set guard to hover over a round breast. He squeezed it hard without proper invitation, digging his short nails into the vulnerable mound of flesh.

She whimpered in protest, lifting her own hand to try and pry his detrimental one away from her. He smoothly struck it down in a single deft blow, nonchalantly treating it as if it were a bothersome insect. With a tearful gasp that was brushed away by his dominating tongue her skewed wrist fell lifelessly to her side, countless bones fractured in a bare instant.

Blood dribbled onto the unsympathetic leaf-blanketed terrain, the dainty _plops _overshadowed by the woman's increased panting. Kisame smiled darkly against her mouth, a pinch of morbid happiness beginning to bloom in chest. His oppressive hand was placed on her reddened breast again, scratching it and leaving distinct marks that would merely disappear in a few hours. She tried feebly to move away from his grasp but failed miserably as his opposite hand shot down to fiercely clutch her shoulder. He nearly crushed even more of her with his terrifying clasp.

The startled noises she emitted were absolutely divine to his ears and contributed to the stirring in his loins.

Kisame pulled away from her lips in favor of her neck, nibbling it mindfully at first—to her relief—before suddenly sinking his sharpened fangs into her and drawing blood. It was coppery and pungent to his taste buds, but just as well it was utterly exquisite. She was motionless and rigid, still unable to properly accustom herself to his feral tendencies after all the afternoons and nights they had squandered away together. He lifted his teeth from the bleeding skin of his prey, his mouth shifting gingerly across it as he murmured to her.

"Are you afraid?"

She drew in a shaky breath, her nerves trembling as she whispered, "…iie. I'm not afraid of you."

Chuckling menacingly, Kisame drew backwards and bent down slightly to grasp the woman from behind her quivering thighs. He swiftly hoisted her up with ease, purposefully forcing her back against the serrated tree bark as he did, satisfied to hear her rasps in response to the pointed chips of wood embedding themselves in her unprotected flesh. Between her velvety legs he stood, holding them apart as he ground into her, ensuring she would feel the full impact of his body on hers.

Her heartbeat was rising and her bosom fluctuating rapidly; he felt both against his own as he left no possible gap between them, kissing her hungrily. With her mobile hand she held the side of his face, running it down his tough flesh to his chin where her fingertips barely lingered. It was almost an affectionate gesture but he knew better than to deem it as such—he had not a tinge of interest in doing so either.

He left her lips again and dove for her prominent collarbone, a certain feature of hers that he had always particularly admired. As he continually moved against her, pressing her deeper and deeper into the hostile tree bark, he raked his teeth over her clavicle. Bitter copper was dancing across his tongue again, and he greedily lapped at the wound he had just inflicted. Her fingers dug into the hair at the top of his head, gripping onto it as though she were barely maintaining her connection to sanity through it.

She was mumbling fervently under her breath, her eyes closed as she tilted her head back to the leafy green ceiling. "_I deserve this…I deserve this_…"

Kisame mercilessly pierced through the delicate bone with his fangs, a definite _crack _and a female yelp inciting him further. While he continued lifting her with one hand the other flew down to hastily undo the hold of his pants. They obediently slid down to his knees and he spared a moment to evaluate the woman offering her pale, blood-drizzled neck to the spectating gods as though she were sacrificing herself to the heavens. Her eyes were shut closed in concentration, refusing him a view of her clear blue eyes as she hysterically repeated her self-mutilating mantra.

He did away with those pesky words the second he jabbed his way inside her, shifting under her pulsating walls. On pure reflex she whipped her right hand—the broken one—at his face in the vain hopes of driving him off. Kisame grabbed it and pitilessly twisted it around as he ventured deeper into her, galvanized by her loud yell that was sure to attract wild animals to them. (Only to be driven in the reverse direction upon seeing Samehada stationed before the source of sound.)

She was sniffling now and tears were running avidly down her cheeks as he forcibly expanded her inner walls to admit him. Every time he entered her it felt without fail as though he were doing so anew; as if she had never been sullied during their last encounter.

And she always bled, and she was always dry until she eventually deigned to give in to sinful bliss and to him.

_…I deserve this…I deserve this._

Her enigmatic words echoed in his blurred mind as he pounded into her, the whispers far greater in volume than her high-pitched shrieks and moaning. The bushes surrounding them rustled lightly as wild vermin scurried away from the scene, disgusted with the brazen show taking place in the middle of their forest. Birds took flight from their nests on overhanging branches, stimulated out of their dozing to consciousness by the raucous noise.

Kisame heard none of it as he pistoned into her like a madman, watching as her head thrashed from side to side in rebellion against the hard bark. She jerked and struggled valiantly while shouting with helplessness. And while it should have been scathing to his ears, it was more like sweet candy.

With the tip of his member he hit the ends deep within her, but instead of relenting he continued trying to senselessly shove the rest of himself inside.

"Not—not so deep…!" she implored tearfully.

She should have realized by now that the more she begged him not to, the more he would do it, Kisame thought fleetingly. More than likely, she probably did. So he acted accordingly by wordlessly heeding to her demand: he drove into her over and over, the feel of her blood trickling down from his shaft and onto his legs captivating him, as well as the wretched smears marring her sweat-layered pink-dusted neck and chest. Everything about her in this accursed scenario aroused him, and he knew that in some twisted psychotic way she derived a similar effect from it as well.

It was because she wished to be plucked by him, time and time again; torn asunder and vigorously tunneled into.

_I deserve this. _

By consummating with a ruthless beast like him _she was punishing herself_.

He grinned sharply, the threatening edges of his teeth glinting in the sunlight seeping in through the leafy opening above. The slickness inside her increased, and whether from his own entire doing or her added influence as well he knew not. It became easier to pull in and out of her and he complied with her body's partial coerced acceptance of him. He wittingly demolished the diminutive fist still clutched in his hand, reducing it to but a shriveled mass of porcelain skin and pale fragmented bones. Some of the slimy grotesque bits and pieces oozed out through the space between his fingers.

Her excruciating screams accompanied him as he released himself in her.

…

…

…

"…and the teenage girl named Kagome traveled with a hanyou called Inuyasha to collect the shards of a mystical jewel together. Along the way they befriended others who would help them on their journey to eventually defeat the wicked villain, Naraku; Shippou, Miroku, Sango, Kirara." Transcendent energy crackled as she herself was pieced back together like the sacred jewel she spoke of so often to him.

He, now fully clothed, sat beside her ever-nude form against that majestic tree bark, watching as the magical phenomenon patched her up again to how she was before he brutally disassembled her. As the cuts and slashes across her chest, neck and back healed, so did the right hand that had surely been disfigured beyond fixing. The blood on her skin evaporated as it always did and everything she was missing was impeccably replaced; materializing from nothing, summoned forth into existence by sizzling pink electricity. And as per usual while her unorthodox method of auto-maintenance repaired her without her having to lift a single finger, she rehashed for him in a benumbed tone the apocryphal tale of The Girl Who Overcame Time.

"What happened to that girl?" he questioned without preamble, a blue hand draped over his knee while the other was relaxing on a corpulent root jutting up from the ground.

She turned to him, her blue eyes shining with a hint of curiosity. "That girl?"

"The one you refer to as Kagome."

"Oh…" Mouth pressed in a firm line, she seemingly steeled herself before humoring him with a bitter smile. "Her? She's no longer alive."

Kisame cocked a speculative brow and acknowledged her gaze with his own. "And why would that be?"

The woman held her chin between her newly restored thumb and forefinger, looking both childish and thoughtful as she studied a fallen verdant leaf. "Kagome made a mistake."

His eyes were hard on her, pressing her for more information.

"She made the wrong wish," she supplemented.

The ex-Mist ninja warningly growled, "You're being vague."

"Let's see," she said quietly, sitting up straighter now that her full health had been granted back to her. "Basically, you could say that while she thought she was doing what was best for everyone, it ended up wiping them all out along with the enemy. As for her, she was…consumed. By the jewel."

In casual response Kisame hummed. "What are you?" he asked again what he had so many times already, his attention fixated on her.

"I'm eternal," she replied, the regret and yearning heavy in her tone.

"Eternal…" the shinobi murmured hollowly, testing the ambiguous word on his tongue. It tasted repulsive.

"So, Kisame, have you decided yet?" She picked up a nondescript leaf by the stem, twirling it absentmindedly before her nose. "Your wish?"

"Eager to pass on the liability, are you," he remarked snidely with a low, rumbling laughter.

She smiled ruefully. "Can you blame me?"

…

…

…

A lone nocturnal owl hooted in the distance, singing out for the companions that didn't exist.

Kisame, with a dexterous hand grasping onto the hilt of his vexed sword, ascended to his feet. "My wish. I'll make it now," he announced surely, keeping his back to her.

"You will…?" She sounded taken aback, as if she hadn't expected for this night to come so soon. Not ever. "After everything I've told you, you'll still take on the burden?"

He said nothing, raising his chin to assess the dark near-impenetrable ceiling. Moonlight filtered in through sparse slits, but it wasn't him they shone on.

"Fine, then," the woman conceded cynically, and he could practically hear her fold her arms under her chest. "What is your deepest desire, Hoshigaki Kisame? Wealth, power, fame—"

"Disappear from this world, and take that damned jewel with you."

"…what?"

But it was already too late; the wish had been articulated and heard. Stifling flames erupted suddenly from behind him, both the oppressive heat stroking his cloaked back and ignited roars snapping at his trained ears confirming the fact for him. He was also able to discern the familiar weeping of his blue-eyed sprite as her body was engulfed in the conflagration. He declined seeing her and remained stagnant, gazing up into a desolate void of nothingness. He wasn't surprised to discover that he couldn't pick up the stench of burning flesh—she never _had _left any traces in her wake unless it was intentional.

"_You made the correct wish_!"

With that final triumphant shout, the gluttonous fires were quelled by a deific palm. She was swept away as well, a powerless leaf in an unforgiving whirlwind—his blue-eyed sprite.

That was when he finally turned, his action slow and deliberate. At that bottom of that majestic tree, gleaming dully under a generous beam of white light was a conquered pink jewel. It perished subserviently at his will, cracked lines of demise suffusing it before it collapsed into numerous shards. They disintegrated pitifully on the forest floor where he had continually relieved himself of his carnal and sadistic pleasures—too often to count.

A frail breeze that shouldn't have, by any logical means, been passing through the dense forest slithered by; it scattered the glittering relics of the defanged Shikon no Tama among the wild terrain, guaranteeing that it would never be pieced back together ever again.

_Thank you, Kisame_…

His mouth quirked in a rogue smirk as he turned his back to that majestic tree and walked away from it for the final time. _Turns out you weren't eternal after all, Kagome._


End file.
